This post is for McKenzie and also the story of the mystery in my bed.

The other day I was doing homework in my apartment living room when I looked at my phone and saw I had a notification on Snap chat. I opened it up to see my friend sent me a picture of a calendar she saw while at the mall, next to words that said something like, "How weird is this calendar?"

It was a certain calendar called nuns having fun, and it displays nuns from history, and currently, having fun in all over the world in all kinds of ways; like skiing and basketball.

How do I know so much about this calendar?

BECAUSE I OWN IT AND IT IS AWESOME AND LITERALLY HANGING IN MY LIVING ROOM RIGHT NOW!

(This year was the color edition.)

(My roommates and I have taken to labeling each other in the calendar each month. I'm going solo on guitar)

Anyway, that above portion has been sitting in my draft box for about two months which I feel kind of bad about as I wish I was the kind of person who was creative, hilarious, and motivated enough to write regularly (see: http://themcfrenzy.blogspot.com/)

I don't necessarily have a theme for this blog, or really a purpose for it, other than, as stated in an earlier post and an episode of 30 Rock, to work my "mind grapes"

Thank you, Mr. Jordan

If I were to pick a theme for this blog, however, it would probably be weird stuff that I remember from my childhood or that has happened recently sprinkled with some existential thoughts about my purpose and place in the universe. If this is an attractive prospect for you and you wish to continue reading, know that I really want to hug you and probably give you a respectful kiss on the cheek. With your consent, of course.

Today, I'll be telling about something weird that happened this past semester. I really couldn't tell this until the semester was over and once I've told you, I think you'll understand why.

Last semester I was living with a really great bunch of girls at school. All of us really got along well and other than me occasionally getting annoyed at a pile of dishes in the sink, there was pretty much no conflict. 

We weren't really in the habit of big pranks, but sometimes we talked about how great it would be to play pranks on each other like we were silly girls at a camp. I even managed to sneak up on some of my roommates and scare them, but again no real elaborate pranks.

One day I had gotten back from a long day of homework, teaching at the local elementary school, and then working a childcare job.

I was so tired I immediately got into comfy pants and was determined to sleep until I forgot how stressful my life was.

I had made my bed that day so I lifted my covers to jump in when I saw something under my sheets. It looked grainy and white, and there was a lot of it where there was nothing that morning.

Too much of it to be some kind of accident.

 I took some between my fingers and smelled it. I supposed, in my tired state, that there were three things that grainy substance could have been: 

1.Sugar

2.Salt

3.Some kind of poison probably.

So like the tired idiot I was, I took a grain of it and touch it to my tongue. Salt.

Figuring this was some kind of weird prank by my roommates, and remember I was tired, I literally just dusted most of the salt off my bed and hopped in to go to sleep.

I know, I'm a gross human being. 

The next day I thought more about this "prank" one or more of my roommates had pulled. It was a weird prank, what was the endgame here? I didn't get it, but guessing that was the funny part about it, the randomness, I took it in good humor and asked my roommates about it the next day.

It wasn't even a question. Someone put salt in my bed. So I went around throughout that next day asking my roommates "who put salt in my bed? Were you in on this?"

I lived with five girls, all of them were convincingly mystified, asking me about the salt in my bed. I brought a couple of my roommates to the scene of the crime, to touch the leftover salt for themselves.

Not. one. roommate.confessed.

If I know pranksters, they want to get caught, so that they get the chance to laugh with/at you.

I know because that's my favorite part of playing pranks.

BUT NO ONE CONFESSED!!!

I went throughout the rest of the week waiting for someone to confess. Nothing.

Two weeks later, after a day I had mostly spent at home doing homework, as I lift my sheets to get into bed, AGAIN, salt in my bed!!!!

Two incidences, no confessions. I waited until the end of the semester to see if people fessed up.

It is now April 2014, and I have no answers, half my roommates left for home.

Here are my theories.

1.One of my roommates secretly hated me a lot and got back at me by putting salt in my bed. This is kind of sad  but funny because I mostly try to be a good be a roommate and be considerate and all, but if this person hated me and the best way they thought to hurt me was by putting salt in my bed, I actually kind of have to love that kind of person. 

2. There is a Rexburg caper who likes to play pranks without the rush of being caught and laughing. I don't like this person mostly because it leaves me without answers.

3. Someone or something was trying to protect me from demons. I've seen enough episodes of Supernatural to know that salt keeps away demons, I'm no fool. If this is the case, thanks a bunch, salt my bed or whatever.

 Thank you Winchester Brothers+Castiel

I've researched the internet for answers, none of the pieces seem to come together. It couldn't have been some kind of weird bug, there were no holes in my ceilings, and I don't throw my shoes on my bed.

This will probably become one of those historical mysteries, no one knows the answers but it's fun to think about what the answer might be, like the lost colony, or the crystal skulls.

But seriously, if you have theories, hit me up.

Listen to this while you think about it.

Things I now know about Helen Hunt and Child Development

It's almost one am and I have had just had a crazy educational day in what activities not to do with elementary school kids. I'm exhausted but I can't sleep so I'm in a bit of happy delirium fueled by eating three strawberry cookies and drinking chai tea.

So obviously it's a perfect time to post on my blog.

I've been meaning to post this story for awhile because I feel like it's relate-able in a weird way to everyone's childhood. The things you don't realize when you're a kid and sometimes carry into your adulthood.

Let me just explain...

Two months I ago I learned that Helen Hunt, does not, in fact, have three breasts. This is a somewhat stunning revelation to have had as a young women in my early twenties, but I kid you not I did not question this idea until November of 2013.
 If you don't remember, Helen Hunt is that actress from films like Twister, Pay it Forward, and Cast Away

 

You know, Helen Hunt.

In any case, for a great part of my life I held this strange belief and it was only rectified when in November I was perusing YouTube and saw and advertisement for her starring in a indie film. Immediately when I saw she was in the film I wondered to myself  "I wonder what happened to her third boob?"

So I took to Google like the good little millennial I am, and searched for "Helen Hunt + Third Breast".

Nothing.

I tried the same search with different wordings.

Some other stuff came up but it was definitely not what I was looking for.

So I thought hard about where I had heard this. It only took a few seconds before I realized I had been holding this idea about Helen Hunt under some pretty ridiculous circumstances.

If we rewind to probably sometime around 2001 I was about 9 years old and completely unlearned in discerning credible news sources.

As  child of this age I was also subject to frequent grocery store trips with my mom. Mom was no rookie grocery shopper and bought a ton of food in each grocery trip to plan for our family meals. As such, we always had to spend a long time checking out and the 20 items or less aisle was practically a foreign territory to me. 

It was in these times standing in line that I would look, predictably, at the magazines in the aisle. And if you remember anything about the late 90's and early 2000's in grocery stores, you will remember one magazine frequenting those shelves; at least in central North Carolina.

The National Enquirer.

This was (might still be, I have no idea) a celebrity smearing magazine that also sometimes includes articles about recent supernatural events like alien sightings, or ancient curses ruining mid-western american housewives linen. It's just like, a ridiculous magazine and no one took it seriously.

But as a nine year old, I had no idea about this! This magazine was sitting next to actual newspapers and magazines like 17, and Vogue. How was I supposed to know that this joke of a magazine had no real credibility? If you really think about it, the National Enquirer seems like a name for a totally legitimate newspaper or magazine.

So I one day while I was waiting in that long line I looked at the cover, I even remember what it looked like. In the upper right portion of the magazine's banner, in black and white, I saw Helen Hunt in a photo with what clearly looked like three evenly sized breasts in her tank top, next to writing in bold letters that probably said something like " SCANDAL! Helen Hunt discovered with three breasts!"

I don't know the circumstances of why she did have them, but in my mind this made sense. I remember actually thinking 

"Oh right, she hasn't been in anything since Castaway. Probably because she's embarrassed that everyone knows about that extra breast now. Totally makes sense."

And while I later was able to learn that the National Enquirer is not actually a reliable magazine, I never rectified this small fact of Helen Hunt's chest situation in my head.

So this resulted in mine holding of this idea of her since 2001. Literally every time someone mentioned Helen Hunt, which was not often enough for me to question, I wondered about her chest. 

SINCE 2001! THAT IS MORE THAN TEN YEARS AGO! 

Now that I work with kids, and study them a lot I realize how easily children will believe things. They are just so inherently trusting and that is beautiful while hilarious. Children mimic what adults do, believe what adults tell them, and do what adults tell them. These things they learn are carried into their entire lives, contribute to what kind of adult that child will turn into Isn't that terrifying? Now knowing this I feel an intense responsibility to be a somewhat decent adult. I want to be the kind of person that can be so understanding of that time and hopefully spur something good within these little adults.

I think a lot of people forget what it's like to a be a child and I honestly get so upset about that.

When I see a child "acting up" in a grocery store or restaurant or whatever, and then I see other people being judgmental with their stares and whispered, I'm infuriated.

These little humans are in people training and it takes so much learning to be a proper, contributing adult. They are learning.

There are people in their 30's and older who still haven't grasped it, who need to learn, and so much of it depends on childhood.

So I really feel lucky to have left childhood still believing that Helen Hunt had extra gifts when other kids left with learning so much worse untruths. 

And I remember what was like, to scrape my knees and still keep playing dangerously,  to believe that kisses stopped pain on all my cuts and bruises.

This is why over a year ago I was so easily taken when a friend told me that when he was a little kid he used to pretend to be a business man with a briefcase and go out to his little battery powered kid car, WHICH EVERYONE IN THE WORLD WAS JEALOUS OF, and sit in the driveway in it pretending to be stuck in traffic.

Like instead of driving around in it.

I knew we would get along swimmingly. Just because I knew he remembered what it was like.

I might post again in the future. Love to all.

My struggle to not cry during Up is always fruitless.

If you know me in any sense you know that I am somewhat passionate about the things that I like. I am completely unafraid to be interested and invested in a whole host of ranging interests. The list of things I like will always be exponentially bigger than the list of things I don't like. (Which if you're interested I don't like Owls, being late to meetings where people are counting on me, and Sunny D(if you're going to do orange flavored juice why don't you just commit already and have some delicious orange juice?!?!?!?))
This aspect of me usually works in my favor because it means I can relate to a lot of people because my interests are so varied, like many people I suppose. I can't always go into great detail on every single thing I like(I've mentioned this before), but I can guarantee I am enthused.
But often this passion gets so intense in the moment that I can't handle it and my emotions come out of my eyeballs.

I cry.
I'm not sad, or angry, I am just so completely in the moment that it takes over my body and shoots out of my tear ducts.
This is why every time Pocahontas sings about what's around the river bend I have to lie down because I relate to that girl so hard I can't stand it.
                 

What DOES lie around the riverbend? Should I choose the smoothest course? Where can I get in touch with a sassy elderly Willow tree who will help me out with these questions? AGH!

Side note: my roommate and I discovered last semester that if you just watch Meeko the raccoon the entire film it is still 100% entertaining. Just.look.at.him.

Which leads me to an experience I had while I was with a grand friend at Disneyland.

In August I was able to do like five days in California with a friend which completely blows my mind that it happened because I had been dreaming about it for so long it almost seemed like it would never happened. Also, it lived up to every single expectation I had, which was incredible. We ate delicious things, saw the coast, and lived it up in Disneyland. Thankfully, my buddy was just as excited about seeing characters and doing rides as I was. Perfect travel buddies. 

Well on the second day we decided to hit up the Royal Court where the princesses usually hang out for photos and outside it had the sign for what princesses were available at the time. I was really hoping for Pocahontas or Mulan because both those ladies appeal to my "free spirit" mentality I like to hope I will one day have through sheer will.

Pretty classically and disappointingly the sign indicated that the only two princesses available were Aurora and Cinderella. There are a lot of blondes I care about and those two ladies are not them. But my friend liked them so we went in and I was happy to get some princess time in anyway.

First room to take pictures in is with Aurora

  
Right, fine, good. Moving on.
I walk in expecting to see Cinderella and then be done.........
but when I look up to see Cinderella it wasn't Cinderella at all. There with her back turned to me....

 

WAS FREAKING MULAN!!!!!

As soon as I saw her I yelled her name absurdly loud and immediately burst into tears.

Frightening Mulan of course.

 The magic was overwhelming. In this photo there are still fresh tears on my face and my eyes are all red from the excitement. Also she hugged me while I calmed down and fulfilled my request to do a warrior pose.

I got to meet Pocahontas too!

I like my life so hard.

Also, if you want some fall songs that I like so hard right now.....

This song makes me want to cuddle with someone attractive.

Classic. Just classic and wonderful.

Mmmm...

I feel good about this

And Vampire Weekend never never never disappoints.

I might post again sometime :)

I'm into that, but definitely not as much as you are.

I find myself in these terrible situations all the time, where I tell someone I like something and then I find out they actually LOVE the thing so I can't talk with the person as in death as they'd like on the subject.
Really, I completely adore it when I find out people have a super big obsession/passion for something. When they know the in's and out's of their obsessions and can go on for hours about it, it's adorable. And pretty much everyone feels like that about something.
World peace, mountain climbing, Kraft cheese, Downton Abbey.
It's cool, and you can tell a lot about a person from their obsessions.
And the thing people love most is when they find someone who shares their passion.

A lot of the times I am not that person.

Don't get me wrong, I like things, I even REALLY like things, but I don't always love things. Ya feel me?

So when my friend says: "I'm looking for something that says Dad likes leather", and then looks at me expectantly for knowing laughter.....
If I can't deliver I feel super disappointing.
Did you catch that line? Me neither, it's from Arrested Development.

Another tender Bluth family moment brought to you by Ron Howard

Which by the way, I REALLY like, but obviously not as much as my friend does.

 I REALLY like: Duke Basketball, Thai food, Arrested Development, Pokemon, Tyler the Creator, kayaking, Once Upon a Time, Joy Division, label makers.

Things I LOVE: 30 Rock, Human Development theorists, feminism, Tina Fey, poetry, Alt- J,caramel popcorn.

I'll go ahead and tack family and friends on there too, that seems appropriate.

Anyway,don't ask me about the the particulars of Thai drunk noodles, I can't follow you there. But I want you to know I care.

Also, everything is perfect because I can feel that fall is going to close in. I know it. Even in 90% humidity and Carolina harsh sunshine I know it. The stores are filling up with cozy sweaters and that means I can soon start my holiday tradition of  trying to talk myself out of buying them. Specialty Halloween costume shops are opening, the NC fair is getting attention, and all the lame summer TV is making way for shows that I will miss and watch the next day online, commercial free.
Most.wonderful.time.of.the.year.
Plus, I went to bath and body works and bought EVERY SINGLE pumpkin hand soap there is. Did you know there are SIX different kinds?
-Sweet Cinnamon Pumpkin
-Pumpkin Cupcake
-Pumpkin Caramel Latte
-Creamy Pumpkin
-Scarlet Pumpkin
-Spice Kissed Pumpkin

MY HANDS ARE GOING TO SMELL DELICIOUS FOR THE ENTIRE SEASON!
Things are looking up folks. :)

I like people who use really dramatic words to describe otherwise mundane situations

There are a lot of ways that you can enter my heart. Absurd dramatic language is 100% proven to be effective in Andrea heart entering. It's not difficult, all you need is a basic knowledge of American English and a touch of creativity. I I have examples if you need somewhere to start.

I broke my nail........I obliterated my nail.

This car trip is going to take a very long time.....This car trip is going to take a million and a half years.

Wow, that's a deep pool........that pool is as deep as the pits of hell.

That guy is really handsome........that guy is so good looking I would bear his children and sacrifice my lifelong dream of marrying rich.


In other news, my laptop is broken obliterated because sometimes siblings aren't careful with my things and I am starting a blog to let off some creative energy mind grapes juice. I've had a couple people tell me that they would read my blog if I started one. So to those two people, I'm sitting in my living room writing words that maybe you'll read? Yes?

I don't have a super lot to offer today, I just got back from an amazing trip to Disneyland which was obviously life changing, but all my photos were left at my mom's place because I'm a dunce. Stories from that will soon come. Disneyland, that is.
I'll just leave you with a weird photo that I found on my parent's desktop computer.

 

That's my dad and I really can't explain it because it didn't have an explanation attached. I'm just assuming he took a trip to somewhere patriotic and didn't invite me. Whatever, I'm over it.

Also, do I tell you things about me here? I'm in Idaho most of the year and that might be relevant.

It's usually cold butt chilling icy in Idaho but I'm currently enjoying my North Carolina home on my quasi school break for the fall.

That's all for today.

Ciao.